Epilogue
by Ethan I
Summary: Irene begins to pick up the pieces. *Update*: I literally stumbled upon this second chapter written long ago; I felt obligated to pop it up here. I plan on this being the last chapter, unless people are just dying to have more (don't make me laugh).
1. Up in Pieces

Irene examined her reflection in the glass window

The Epilogue 

**Chapter I**

Irene glided up the escalator and somberly got off---without a word, without a gesture, without a blink or a breath.She examined the diluted reflection of herself in the stainless steel wall, barely able to make out any image in the cold surface._ This is all he ever wanted, be grateful._Her vision started becoming illegible, like an abstract oil painting.She commanded herself to stop the tears, telling herself that she could cry anytime.Now was important._I might not ever see him again, _was the last thing that came into her mind before she raised her head to look up into the picturesque window range.

The rocket shot off into the lazy blue sky, its wisps of smoke barely hanging there before the wind caught them.Suddenly realizing that she had almost missed seeing the rocket blaze away, she assertively pressed her eyes to the sky, straining to see the rocket one last time before it disappeared.Her eyes were completely unmoving from the spot, reluctant to leave the place where he had just been, seconds before.

"How many launches are there in a day? A dozen?"

"Sometimes more."

"You're the only one who watches every one of them."She slammed the image out of her memory, as she took an acute breath._He'll be back._

_ _

***

Shortly afterwards on her way back to the work station, she noticed everyone in her work division heading down the hallway, pouring out of the work area.

"Where are we going?" she asked an intelligent black woman, someone who set only a few seats away from her in the work area.

"To the fitness area.They said they wanted everyone to start getting accustomedto the new mission director's style.The word is, he said that Gattaca's previous, unacceptable level of fitness was the cause for all the mission failures." 

After a tiresome jog that the fitness director told everyone was required, she felt slightly better, although she felt very perturbed at how much she was made to exercise all for the benefit of the mission director.The fitness director, obviously in disarray from the new reconstruction, commented pettily about how her energy had been low, but she barely even acknowledged him, going straight into the locker room.

With as much energy as she could muster up, she took her clothes and headed to the shower.While the warm water massaged her muscles, she tried to relax.She realized that it was vital to start gathering strength for the long journey that lay ahead.Her deep thoughts were interrupted by a group of women who came into the locker room.As garrulous and insensitive as the seemed, Irene told herself not to get irritated with them because she knew that there was no way that they could know the situation she was going through.She dismissed the thought as she got out of the shower and renovated her appearance, then left the locker room.

As she walked back to the work area she was unaware how she began to feel better with each step.Her mind was getting ready to stumble upon the fact that she indeed was feeling better when she heard a sweet baritone voice call her name.It was more like a question testing to see if it was really her.Of course she knew that the only other Irene at Gattaca had been laid off months ago.

She turned around, gathering her mellow politeness that many took for spontaneous charm."Yes."

She saw a man who she had never seen before; she noted to herself that he probably worked in the business department.The rugged look he possessed about him was noticed by Irene, but it also was not overlooked how the man's light brown eyes had a keen, eager look.The stranger's hair was dark brown, but she observed how the light caught meticulous highlights in his hair.The way he stood gave away the fact that he was muscularly built and exercised regularly.The way those keen eyes looked eagerly at her showed his love of learning.His parents must have been excessively wealthy because she knew it was usually unheard of that a man could have an equivalent position of the senior staff without having lived long enough to have been able to acquire the knowledge, and she _knew_ that he probably held a high position.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in taking a small sabbatical from your current job to assist the new mission director for awhile."He spoke with charm and grace.

"I'm sorry.I have already been away from my regular job for some time now, because I was the assistant to the men investigating the murder of the former mission director."She executed her valid reasoning with a faint smile.She usually wasn't this assertive about refusing to assist with one of the organization's operations but she had told herself that it was imperative to return to her old lifestyle.

"The mission director would greatly appreciate it."

"Well," she said keeping her same level of polite finesse, "judging from the mission director's work so far, I haven't been pleased—seeing as how on the first day returning back to our regular work, the staff has already been made to do more than their share of work, even for the people who will be leaving soon for missions.So once again I am sorry.Excuse me."She consciously began to turn back around when the same voice caught her, but this time, it held a sincere tone.

"Michael Conner."

"And what department do you work in?" Irene asked genially.

"I'm the new mission director." He noticed how only the slightest enlargement of her eyes told of the surprise she felt.

"Well I'm glad to meet you, mission director," she said tilting her head.

"Would you mind showing me around Gattaca's facilities?"

"You haven't been shown to them already?"

"I'm not as familiar with them as I should be."

"I really must be gett-"

"Irene, it won't even take a whole day."

She figured there was no other way around it, so she started on the tour, trying to keep it systematic and professional.

***

The end of tour brought them to the fountain garden."Here is the memorial section.The names of many great founders and significant people who have paved---"

"Would you like to come to dinner with me tonight, Irene?" he asked with detail looking straight at her.

"Tonight I---"

"I really need to get to know some of our staff better since I will be working with them so much."

Irene was caught off guard, and she prayed that she wasn't standing there lookingspeechless.Michael seized on the situation.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight.I'll pick you up."

_What have I done?_Irene stood there, daring to not breathe or think.He smiled sincerely at her before he turned around to walk off.


	2. Strewn

Part II

The doorbell buzzed.  

"I can't do this," Irene said anxiously before swallowing a pill.  "I'm coming." _He can hear the fear in my voice. _

Before opening the door she stopped to look in the mirror.  The minute crystals on her pale green dress shimmered violently as her breaths came in short bursts.  Her reflection would've possessed a delicate beauty had it not been for the expression she wore on her face.  She decided against leaving her hair down and quickly pulled it up behind her head.  _I can't let him think I'm enjoying this, because I'm not.  Am I?  Try to look like you're not going to a funeral Irene._

"Hello," Irene said perplexedly.  Standing in the doorway of her apartment was an unfamiliar stranger.

"I'm sorry ma'am.  I was sent by Mr. Connor."  He paused momentarily.  "Something came up."

"He won't be able to join me tonight?"

"Certainly not ma'am.  He will just be running behind.  He sent me to pick you up." 

_I knew I couldn't get out of it that easy._  "I see…Well, let me get my coat."

            *******************************************************************************************************************************

Irene was jolted back from her thoughts as light filled the back of Connor's long black car.  She picked the middle of her dress up and femininely stepped out of the vehicle, hearing the ivory heels of her shoes touch the ground.  Too anxious to even see who had opened the door, she began walking down the violet carpet, which lead towards the entrance of wherever she now was.  Because of the archway contrived of two fountains of water, one coming from each side down the entire length of the carpet, she couldn't even look to her left or right, to get some hint of where she was at.  

But at the end was a man by the door, regal in dress, pompous in manner.  He spoke slowly, as if they were both royalty.

"Welcome, madam, to The Laureate."  He opened the door as if she were the next contestant in the Roman Coliseum.

Her senses were filled to the brim immediately.  The elaborate restaurant was dressed in all colors of the rainbow, which overwhelmed her eyes, and the symphony soothed her ears.  __

_I really could care less where I am_.

Not too long after she had been seated, a glass of chardonnay was set down at her table.  Before she could tell the woman that she hadn't ordered, the woman said, "It's from the man sitting over there."

"Where?"  But before the woman could answer, a man's voice—off in the distance—somehow caught her ear.  By the time she had turned around, Michael was sitting down at the table.

Michael studied her with a grin.  But it didn't stay for long.  

"Seeing as how you were so eager to get me here, I think it's funny that you yourself couldn't even make it on time," Irene said, wearing an indifferent expression on her face.  "It's the least you could have done."

"A mission…unforeseen difficulties—"

"It would've been nice to have been wrong about you.  Obviously, all of your charm is a ruse."  Irene began to scoot her chair back, getting ready to leave, but a thought nagged her mind.  She spoke more slowly now, as if approaching an object with caution.  "Which mission was it?"

"Titan One.  Listen Irene, you have to understand—"

"Jerome Morrow.  He's on that mission.  Is it serious?"

"We've…lost contact with the ship."

"I…" she suddenly felt sick.  "I need to go.  I suppose I'll see you tomorrow."

She began hastily walking away, uninterested with whatever Michael was thinking.  The same woman who she had seen earlier stopped her before she could reach the door.

"Miss, did the man who gave you the wine ever find you?"

"Yes.  He's there at my table now."  Irene began towards the door.

"Oh, that's not him, ma'am."

"It's not?  Well who was it?"

"That handsome man in the corner," the woman said smartly.

Reluctantly, Irene turned to see.  Indeed, there the man was, sitting in the corner.  He was quite handsome.  He sat, leaning away from the table.  His slicked back hair was noticeable, since he seemed to look down at the table, distraught.  Before Irene could turn her own eyes away, his eyes suddenly looked up to see her staring at him.  That's when she realized who it was—Anton Freeman, the young detective.   


End file.
